


Petals, From His Lips Like Prayers

by RedRiviera



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Hanahaki Disease, Ladynoir July 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-26 17:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19772698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRiviera/pseuds/RedRiviera
Summary: Chat Noir has read enough shoujo manga to know that when Ladybug starts coughing up golden, blood-stained petals, she’s in serious trouble. Toss in a couple of akuma attacks, Hawkmoth making a sudden lunge for power, and four cases of unrequited love- perhaps they truly are heading for disaster.LadyNoir July 2019. A revised version of my previous Hanahaki AU (deleted sometime last year).





	1. 1. Miraculous

The akuma started wailing in a truly anguished, harrowed way, and the ground shook beneath their feet. 

“She doesn’t love me!” She cried, her voice hoarse from all her screaming. Big, glassy tears streamed down her cheeks. “She doesn’t love me, she doesn’t love me, she doesn’t…” 

It wasn’t particularly pleasant to listen to, especially when coming from a brainwashed akuma with escalating emotions- but Chat Noir had to admit, her heartbreak resonated with him deeply. He tried his hardest not to hold a hand over his heart in solidarity, to symbolise their shared pain, to make sure it was still beating hard and steady in his aching chest. He knew his bleeding heart would be the end of him, if he let it be. From behind an overturned car, he and Ladybug hunkered down and hid from the lovelorn girl, frantically trying to pull together some form of a plan. 

Ladybug huffed, desperately clutching at her side like she’d been shot. A patch her suit looked darker. It stuck to her gloved fingers. Chat Noir couldn’t look away.

“My Lady,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice down as he reached for her. “You’re bleeding.” 

She huddled in on herself, shuffling just out of his reach. She crouched and groaned. “I-It’s nothing.” She hissed through her teeth, refusing to look her partner in the eye. “Don’t worry about me- we need to fix this mess. The akuma… we can’t get close because everytime we do, she shrieks and splits our eardrums, and even when we do sneak up on her, she’s got us outnumbered with her henchmen.” 

The akuma - who referred to herself as The Heart Splitter - continued monologuing to herself, crumpling up on the ground as her army of mindless, grief-stricken zombies surrounded her broken form. They all sobbed about their respective woes: cheating partners, relationships on the verge of collapse, crushes who refused to acknowledge them. If he had to wager, Chat would say that Heart Splitter had to have at least half of Paris on her side by now. Still, he ignored his growing unease and tried to block out the screeching, and hunkered down next to Ladybug. As delicately as possible, he held her left shoulder and took her chin in his other hand. “Ladybug,” he started, tilting her head in an attempt to encourage eye contact, but she still looked away like a guilty child. “You need to call on your Lucky Charm. The longer this goes on, the more serious your injury will get- we need the Miraculous Cure.” 

It wasn’t often Chat Noir dropped his theatrics. He always loved the drama and flair that came with being a Miraculous holder- the costume, the secret persona- it was all a sad teenage boy could ever hope for. But for now, with his other half slowly bleeding out on a tarmac road, he had to pull himself together and be strong for both their sakes. Not that Ladybug wasn’t being strong, by the Gods, he would never so much as imply such heresy - Chat Noir had no doubt in his mind, that of all the people in France, Ladybug was the strongest of them all - she worked harder than anyone, and had so much weight on her shoulders. In times like these, it would be a honour if she’d lean on him for just a little while. 

“I’ve got this.” Ladybug grunted, standing up. “Don’t you worry about me.” 

Of course, getting Ladybug to take it a little bit easier than usual was like asking the sun to stop burning for the day. 

She staggered slightly as she tossed her yo-yo towards the sky. Chat steadied her, and held her around the middle as a pair of red and black-spotted ear protectors fell into her outstretched hand. “Simple enough.” She supposed, about to put them on, but Chat swiped them before she had a chance. 

“Sorry, Buggaboo.” He crooned, as he covered his ears with the industrial-grade protectors. She started complaining, but he couldn’t hear her. Gently, he guided her down to the ground and left her resting behind the car, unable to resist kissing her forehead before he pranced away. “I’ll take care of this one. Don’t you worry, My Lady.” 

Ladybug frowned at him, but didn’t have the energy to argue against him temporarily going solo. She tipped her head back against the bottom of the car, wincing as she pressed her fingers to the spot he'd kissed. Whatever the akuma had stabbed her with, it hadn’t been good. 

* * *

The fight didn’t last too much longer. By the time Chat Noir had secured the ear protectors and snuck up on Heart Splitter, she was too distraught to do much of anything. With a few swift blows from his baton, she was out cold, and her army was too disorganised and preoccupied with their own heartbreak to help. He quickly investigated Heart Splitter’s unconscious body, looking for the akumatised item- a small, dainty little bracelet that dangled from her right wrist. _To Viola_ , the inscription read in looping cursive. _All my love. Your friend, Clarisse._

Chat Noir shook his head as he pried the bracelet off the akuma’s wrist. “I’m sorry, _mon ami_.” He sighed, inspecting the piece of jewelry with all the care he took with Ladybug earlier. “But this is never the way to go. Hawkmoth is never the answer to your problems.” He took one last look at the fallen akuma, catching sight of the small weapons she clutched in either hand. Silver cones with flat bottoms and a thin handle that reminded him of a rapier hilt, in some ways. On the other end, they tapered into thin, razor-sharp points clearly made for stabbing and impaling. Like little drills. Ladybug must’ve been caught in the stomach during the fight.

Having defeated Heart Splitter, the zombified masses scattered and fled, fearing Chat Noir and his destructive hands. He’d already cataclysmed, detransformed, and recharged once during the fight. It hadn’t been pretty. In hindsight, he couldn’t believe how easy it’d been once they’ve received the Lucky Charm - perhaps Ladybug’s kwami had felt their desperation, or Ladybug’s injuries - what a miraculous turn of events, indeed. 

He jogged back over to where Ladybug had collapsed behind the overturned car, and found her looking worse for wear. Her breathing was ragged and laboured, and strange dark lines had started to travel up her neck. Like veins, only more splintered and broken in places. They stood out in stark contrast to her milky skin, peeking over the high collar of her suit. Nothing the cure couldn’t fix.

“I’ve got it.” Chat Noir announced. He dropped down to one knee beside his partner, presenting the bracelet to her as if it were a gift. 

Ladybug gave him a weak smile. “Good job, _Chaton_.” She murmured, soft but pained. She took the bracelet with a shaking hand, more or less falling into his arms as he offered to help her up. Without the energy of her usual cleansings, she snapped the bracelet chain and caught the resulting dark butterfly in her yo-yo. Once it was purified, she freed it, and flung the broken bracelet upwards, muttering a quiet, unenthusiastic _“Miraculous Ladybug”_ as she did. 

Pink light washed over the afternoon sky, and the people laying heartbroken in the street finally came to their senses. Confused and concerned by the mess around them, but otherwise they seemed okay. Akuma attacks were becoming often and widespread enough for those involved to know the drill post-cure: head to the nearest police station or hospital, inform the staff of your name and next of kin, call for somebody to collect you if you have no other akuma-related issues to be resolved. The police would be in contact in the future regarding compensation and post-akuma attack counselling, if required. Easy enough. 

For Ladybug and Chat Noir, it usually meant checking up on the akumatised civilian, and taking interviews from local journalists and reporters (should they be quick enough to catch them). But Chat Noir stood staring at Ladybug in abject horror. “They’re still there.” He gawked, eyes wide in disbelief. “The green lines. They’re still there on your neck.” 

“What?” Ladybug croaked, stepping back from her partner. She checked over her suit, looking for signs of blood or injury. “What lines? The blood’s gone. I’m fine.” She frowned, patting down her sides. 

Chat Noir pointed at the wing-mirror of the now-upright car they’d been hiding behind. “Check your reflection.” 

Ladybug leaned down to get a better look: sure enough, her neck was covered in sprawling green lines that veered up to her jawline. Like wretched fingers crawling over her skin. She swallowed hard. “Maybe the cure needed to focus power on fixing the city.” She reasoned, trying to come up with an excuse as to why she was still marred by their battle with Heart Splitter. “It’ll be alright. She turned a lot of people into her minions, so my kwami must have expended a lot of energy from using the cure. I’ll be fine.” 

“Ladybug, I don’t know-” 

Her earrings beeped unhappily. She wasn’t sure how many spots she had left- she’d lost count whilst battling through the pain of her stab wound. “I’ll be fine, Chat Noir.” She promised, offering him a gentle smile. She reached out and gave his shoulder a light squeeze, letting her hand linger for a little while. “Would you be able to see to Heart Splitter for me? Make sure she’s okay?”

Chat held in a sigh. He wanted to splutter out all of his worries for her health and safety, take her in his arms, and urge her to go and see Master Fu. The Miraculous Cure had never failed before, so why hadn’t it patched her up completely? But with the way she was looking at him, with hope and pride written all over her face… how could he refuse her? “Of course, My Lady.” He settled with a low bow, and took the hand that she’d laid on his shoulder. He pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. “Cat’s honour.” 

“Thank you, Chat.” Ladybug didn’t shake him off like she usually did, and before she turned to leave, she gave him a little wave and stared at him with a fond look on her face. “You really saved my spots out there today!” 

“Not really.” Chat Noir shrugged. “It was all thanks to your kwami’s help.” 

As she spun her yo-yo and snagged onto a nearby rooftop, Chat Noir reluctantly tore his eyes away from her retreating form. He wandered over to Heart Splitter’s side, and found his discomfort ebbing away as he reminded himself that this girl’s mind was hijacked by Hawkmoth. It wasn’t her fault that Ladybug got hurt; if anything, he’d failed to protect his partner. The mere thought made him sick to his stomach.


	2. Civilian Life

Marinette really didn’t want to wake up the following morning. She ended up having a restless night full of tossing and turning, and when she eventually -  _ begrudgingly -  _ forced herself out of bed, she found herself with a splitting headache. Sharp, shooting pains ran up her side and neck, making her feel even nauseous. 

“Ugh, Tikki,” she complained weakly, holding her temples. “I really don’t want to go to class today. Do you think I could squeeze in a sick day?” 

Sympathetic but honest, Tikki shook her little head. “I don’t know, Marinette.” She floated about her charge’s bedside, holding a packet of painkillers almost as big as her. “You have pattern cutting today, right? Monsieur Laurent isn’t known for being lax. You might get in trouble if you skip another day of university.” 

Marinette sighed, crumpling in on herself a little. She took a few minutes to gather herself, mentally reciting a pep talk she’d memorised for particularly trying mornings, before taking the painkillers from Tikki. She popped two into her mouth and dry-swallowed. “I know, you’re right.” She admitted, shooting her companion a sheepish look. “You’re always right. Thanks for bringing me the meds, Tikki.” 

“Anytime, Marinette.” Tikki smiled, admiring her chosen’s endurance and commitment. That was why she was picked in the first place, after all. They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a little while, before Tikki coughed delicately into her fist. “But- you should really look in the mirror before you start to clean yourself up. The lines from yesterday are still there.” 

Cold dread flooded Marinette’s veins. She pushed herself up from where she’d been sitting on the edge of her bed and padded over to her messy vanity desk. She took a look at her reflection and blanched; Tikki wasn’t lying. If anything, she was underselling the issue at hand. The dark green lines still clawed their way up her neck, looking thicker than they had the night before. Marinette lightly traced a finger over the thickest stem. It didn’t feel swollen or raised, but the lines were still much more prominent than she’d hoped they'd be. Really, she’d expected them to fade away in her sleep, especially with Tikki so close by. The earrings still granted her passive curative energy whilst she was untransformed. It wasn't anything major, but still- she'd expected more. 

“Is this bad?” Marinette choked. She internally cursed herself for the slight jolt in her pitch. “Should I be concerned?” 

Tikki faltered, staring at Marinette’s reflection in the mirror with wide, unblinking eyes. “Ah… perhaps?” She confessed, wearing an expression of uncertainty that Marinette was unfamiliar with. “I… have no idea what that akuma did to you, I’ll be honest.” 

Marinette swallowed hard. Her tongue felt too thick in her mouth, and her throat was dry and scratchy. She thought she was going to be sick. “Chat Noir finished off the akuma. Maybe he knows more than we do- about her weapon or something.” She suggested. She moved away from her vanity and started heading for the bathroom. “Failing that, we go to Master Fu.” 

“That sounds like a good start.” Tikki nodded in agreement.

Marinette spent a great deal of time covering up the green marks with concealer and make-up. She didn’t eat breakfast that morning, and when offered, Tikki politely refused her usual strawberry macaron. She’d suddenly lost her appetite, too. 

* * *

It was raining by the time Marinette finished her classes for the day. She’d stayed behind for a little longer than necessary to alter the beading on a work-in-progress dress, and although she was more than happy with the result, her growing anxieties had caused her train of thought to slip on a few occasions. She’d stabbed herself with her needles more times than she cared to count, and her mounting stress exhausted her. 

Instead of heading home for some well-earned rest, she took the metro to the  _ 21st arrondissement  _ and swung by her parents’ bakery. Ever since she moved out for university, she’d tried to hardest to visit as often as possible, but it wasn’t always as achievable as she’d initially hoped. Still, Tom and Sabine Dupain-Cheng were understanding and loving parents. They knew that she had a busy life, and a promising future that she had to work hard to make happen. Seeing her every fortnight wasn’t always enough, but they settled for whatever time they could get with their daughter. 

Marinette arrived at twenty-past six, and fully expected the bakery to be closed for the evening. And it was, by all appearances - the door had a sign hanging in the window informing potential customers that trade had finished for the day, and Sabine had already started clearing unsold stock from the display window - but it quickly became apparent that her parents weren’t alone. From behind the counter, Sabine continuously cast her gaze towards an obscured table. Her focus was divided between closing shop and talking with someone, perhaps a friend visiting from another neighbourhood. it wasn't all too uncommon for Sabine to have company over at the end of a work day. 

Marinette entered through the front door like usual, catching her mother’s attention as the little door bell tinkled. “ _ Bonsoir, Maman!”  _ She greeted eagerly with a cheek-splitting grin. Seeing her parents always lifted her spirits to impossible heights, and she was happy to get out of the pouring, midsummer rain.

“Oh, Marinette!” Sabine cheered, eyes crinkling in delight. Her unbridled happiness cut through melancholy tone of Marinette’s day, and suddenly the weather didn’t bother her too much anymore. “You’re soaked to the bone! You should go and change!” 

Sabine crossed the room and bundled Marinette up into a tight hug. Despite Marinette’s few inches on her mother, she always felt small and protected in her arms. She hugged her back just as tightly, resting her cheek atop her head. “I’m fine,  _ Maman,  _ it’s not as bad as it looks!” 

Somebody chuckled from the seating area of the bakery. Marinette whipped her head around to get a look at who was interrupting her reunion with her mother. Whatever she was going to say died in her throat the moment she locked eyes with her mother’s visitor. 

Sabine cleared her throat, and loosened her grip on her daughter. “I didn’t realise you were coming home today.” It sounded like she was making an excuse, even though she had absolutely no reason to. She gestured to her customer with a guilty eyes. Marinette didn’t have to look twice to register Sabine’s wordless apology. “You remember Monsieur Agreste from _lycée_ , don’t you? Well, of course you do- you were quite good friends as teenagers, if I remember correctly.” 

Marinette read between the lines of her mother’s statement and heard the things she knew were missing:  _ I’m so sorry you had to come home to him, of all people, lounging in our storefront, eating pastries, but the two of you were friends and I’m sure catching up would do you both good.  _ Not that it truly rang home, not when she was face-to-face with gorgeous, tumbling blond locks, emerald eyes, and a killer smile. Sitting across from her was none other than Adrien Agreste, her long-term pre-teen ( _and inter-teen and post-teen, not that she’d care to admit it_ ) crush, the boy who’d held her heart in his hands for most of their school years, without ever knowing.

He shot her a dazzling smile, and Marinette had to channel her dwindling reserves of Lady Luck-style courage, to keep her from turning tail and bolting out the bakery there and then. She felt Tikki vibrate nervously against her thigh, trapped inside her purse, but still accutely aware of what was going on. “ _ Bonsoir,  _ Marinette.” Adrien greeted. His voice sounded a little deeper than she remembered, but it was still smooth and warm like honey. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t make her melt a little on the inside. He rose from his chair, abandoning his half-eaten chocolate croissant, and stepped closer to his old classmate, holding his hand out. “It’s been too long!” 

In that moment, Marinette had two options: she could pretend seeing him didn’t make her heart soar and crash all at once, and play it cool, or she could welcome him back into her life like the old friend he was. Since _lycée,_ Adrien was given no choice but to slip back into the reclusive habits of his father; he attended an elite university to study economics with a minor in physics, and upgraded to an almost full-time modelling career under the Agreste brand, resulting in an absolutely gruelling schedule. Whatever problems sixteen-year old Adrien had in _collége_ , they were nothing compared to those of twenty-one-year old Adrien. Not that he would've complained at all. He’d tried to stay in contact with his friends, but no one had seen much of him over the past three years (besides Nino, who was occasionally permitted entrance into the Agreste manor for Sunday brunch).

So of course, it was understandable that there wasn’t a bone in Marinette’s aching body that could refuse Adrien Agreste. She wasn’t quite sure what he was going for, so she shook his hand a little awkwardly. “Adrien,” she cooed, sounding a little breathless. “It’s so good to see you!” 

Adrien laughed. It was a bright, melodic sound that she’d missed dearly since starting her fashion design course. Honestly, she'd resigned herself to never seeing him again, aside from in pictures and photoshoots she was required to study. It made her heart bleed. He brought both hands up to cradle hers, like the last time they’d seen each other was last week. It felt like a lifetime ago that Marinette sat behind him in Ms. Bustier’s class, spending more time gazing at the back of his head than actually taking notes. It was a miracle that she’d managed to get the impressive grades that did. “How are things?” Adrien asked, like they had all the time in the world. 

“Going well.” Marinette replied honestly. Well, honestly, not counting yesterday’s akuma debacle. “And you?” 

He offered her a strained smile, and she could infer the rest from knowledge of his father and surname. The weight of the Agreste legacy was a heavy burden to carry. “I’m doing alright.” Adrien shrugged and let go of her hands, returning to his seat. “But I mustn’t keep your parents from closing up shop any longer than I already have.” 

“Nonsense, Monsieur Agreste!” Sabine waved him off. She untied her green apron and hung it up by the door. “You’re a friend of our daughter, not just a customer. And if I hadn’t invited you inside, you would’ve been soaked through like Marinette here! How about I go and help Tom clean the kitchen, and you two catch up for a little while?” 

Marinette ignored the butterflies in her stomach as her mother left the room. She took up the seat opposite Adrien's. “It’s no worry at all.” She encouraged, hoping he’d stay for just a little while longer. 

“Well, if you insist…” he relented with a shy smile. “I haven’t seen you in years- I’m so sorry for being so bad at keeping in touch. I’m a terrible friend.” 

“Honestly, don’t mention it.” Marinette shook her head. She braced her elbow against the table and rested her neck against her hand, subconsciously covering her injured side. “Sometimes life gets in the way. I know how it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the hits, kudos, and comments so far! Hope this one's alright! 
> 
> I wanted to put Marinette and Adrien in university- I'll add "aged up" as a tag tomorrow, when I haven't got work in seven hours!
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> ~Red x


	3. Patrol

Marinette and Adrien caught up with one another over an unsold batch of macarons, delivered by a delighted Tom Dupain. He popped his head into the shopfront to quickly greet and hug his daughter, but left soon after. He didn't want to intrude on a meeting between two old friends; he knew what it was like to bottle up words left unsaid, and thought it would be best for Marinette to have some sort of closure on her pipe-dream of a teenage crush. 

Conversation was pleasant for the most part. Adrien’s father was still as strict and foreboding as ever, but aside from that, his degree was going extremely well. He had been taking up extra physics classes whenever he had spare time, determined to bump up his physics minor to a joint degree with economics - no small feat, but manageable in Adrien’s eyes - with any luck, he’d be accepted onto a physics post-graduate course, which would enable him to continue studying his true academic passion. In turn, Marinette told him of her fantastic internship from the previous summer, and how she was asked to come back next month, following the end of classes. With her penultimate year coming to a close, she’d been swamped with work, but everything seemed to be slowly coming together. 

“I’m hardly surprised.” Adrien grinned toothily. It was a strange expression to see on his face, despite how oddly familiar it felt to Marinette. “You’ve always had such raw talent with your designs- and I bet you work just as hard as you did in _lycée!_ Sometimes I see your designs in local non-profit fashion magazines. Father knows about you, too.” 

Marinette gawked. “I wouldn't have taken either of you for fans of student magazines. He knows about my designs?” 

“Of course. Keeping up with new talent is part of his job.” Adrien nodded. To him, it wasn’t so much of a big deal, but it meant the world to Marinette. “He’s always admired your skill, ever since the hat contest when we were kids. He’d probably jump at the chance to have you as an intern before you graduate!”

“Well, I don’t know about that.” Marinette laughed a little nervously. She felt a subtle blush rising to her cheeks at the thought of working with Adrien’s father, and all the good it would do for both her future career and her relationship with Adrien. Not that she’d ever truly seen eye-to-eye with Gabriel regarding anything other than high couture. “But that’s so kind of you to say, anyway.” 

Adrien scoffed down another macaron, trying to be as polite as possible when clearly he was ravenous. “Sorry,” he mumbled after he finished, “model’s diet. It’s as strict as ever, my sweet tooth has been driving me mad. That’s actually why I ended up in your neighbourhood, but I just missed your parents’ opening hours. Your mother is a saint for inviting me in anyway.” 

An old hanging clock chimed on the wall: _seven o’clock, sharp_. Marinette was supposed to meet Chat Noir at half past for a quick patrol. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Yes, well,  _ maman _ would never turn away a familiar face. Or an empty stomach, either.” 

“They wouldn’t accept my payment earlier because they recognised me as your old classmate.” Adrien explained whilst taking out his wallet. “But I couldn’t possibly walk away without paying. Would you take this for me and give it to them later?” He rifled through his cash and pulled out two twenty euro notes. For the second time that evening, Marinette felt a little embarrassed by his over-generosity. 

“Forty euros for a cup of coffee and some cracked macarons?” Marinette rolled her eyes playfully and reached across the table to swat at his wallet. “Put it away. The macarons were damaged, anyway. We couldn’t sell them.” 

Adrien flinched slightly, but remained steadfast. “No.” He replied defiantly, head held high as he rose from his chair. “You forgot about the chocolate croissant. The kindness your parents have shown me in staying open later than usual and offering me free food has honestly brightened my day. I had a rough start to the week, but coming here has made everything feel better. Talking with you again was a lovely surprise, too.” In a few quick strides, he crossed over to the cash register and started fumbling with the slot on top of the tip jar. 

Whilst it was quite amusing for Marinette to watch Adrien struggle with the jar, she had places to be. “If you’re so insistent, the lid screws off.” She eventually explained with a small smile. Adrien shot her an incredulous look. 

“You could’ve told me sooner.” He frowned. His puppy-dog eyes cut her right to the core. 

“Perhaps.” Marinette shrugged. She stacked their empty plates and mugs, making it apparent that she was running short on time. “It _ has  _ been nice… uh- seeing you here, that is- not watching you have a meltdown over a glass jar.” 

Adrien snorted, having succeeded with overpaying Marinette’s parents. He replaced the tip jar back on the counter, looking way too pleased with himself. “Yeah. I’ve missed you, Marinette.” He confessed, sounding quite earnest. With the way he was looking at her, with his big, shining eyes and a shy smile, it was a wonder Marinette didn’t drop the dishes. “And Nino and Alya, too.” 

Marinette hummed in agreement. “If you’re ever in this part of town, just let me know.” 

“I should still have your number, if it hasn’t changed?” Adrien asked. 

“It hasn’t changed.” Marinette confirmed. 

Adrien retrieved his coat from the back of his chair, and headed towards the door. “It’s still raining an absurd amount.” He frowned, peering out of the glass door. “I really should get going, though. It’s been my pleasure, Marinette.” 

Just as he reached for the door, Marinette was struck with an out-of-the-blue memory. It hit her like a lightning bolt. “Wait!” She screeched, before charging into the kitchen. 

There was a clatter of dishes, a muffled apology, and riotous laughter as Marinette thundered her way upstairs. Adrien stood at the door looking a little dumbfounded, but waited for her anyway. He preoccupied himself with preening his hair and readjusting his coat buttons. 

Marinette eventually stumbled back downstairs, almost losing her balance with the last few steps. Adrien instinctually moved towards her as she staggered, but she corrected her footing well enough. “Here.” She offered, completely red-faced. Outstretched in her hand was a sleek black umbrella. 

“Oh,” Adrien uttered, wide-eyed. “My umbrella.” 

“Your umbrella.” Marinette nodded, passing it over. “I never returned it. Now seems like as good a time as ever.” 

Adrien inspected it quickly: not a scratch on the stem, not a tear in the fabric. It still looked to be in perfect condition. He swallowed hard, unable to stop the colour rising to his cheeks. “Thank you, Marinette. I can’t believe you still have this.” For years, she'd kept his old umbrella on the off-chance they ever ran into each other again. Suddenly, he felt a bit guilty for losing contact with her in the first place.

“I’d never throw out something belonging to a friend, are you kidding me?” She waved him off. “Get home safe, alright?”

His smile was positively radiant. “Of course. I’ll text you, okay?” 

_ Oh, mon dieu.  _ “Alright.” Marinette’s throat went dry. She swallowed hard. “See you around.” 

He waved and closed the door gently behind him. After he was out of sight, Marinette waited for half a minute before letting out an unholy wail, scaring the living daylights out of her parents. 

* * *

By the time she skidded to a stop in front of Chat Noir, she was six minutes late. Her trip over to the  _ Tour de Eiffel _ involved exactly one missed jump, three puddle-induced slips, and an angry motorist; she’d started cutting it too fine with her low-hanging swings. One day, she was going to get herself killed by a poor taxi driver, and the whole of Paris would figure out her identity after finding Marinette's body where Ladybug's should be.

“Milady,” Chat Noir stared at her hard, sounding a little out-of-breath. “You’re late. Is everything alright?” He was looking uncharacteristically grave, for some reason.

Ladybug bent forwards, resting her hands on her knees. “I’m fine.” She told him. Her wet hair stuck to her forehead unpleasantly. “Absolutely fine. Just ended up running a bit late, is all.” 

Chat paused. “You’re not  _ that _ late.” He smiled warmly, and patted her on the shoulder, prompting her to glance up at him. “Besides, unless there’s an akuma attack you’re always a little bit behi- hang on, _what on earth-"_

Knocked clean from his train of thought, Chat stepped closer to his partner. Ladybug flinched and straightened her back, giving him a concerned look and he tilted her chin up. “What  _ are  _ you doing, Chat?” She scowled, confused. “Personal space? We’ve talked about this.” 

“No, Ladybug-” Chat protested. His eyebrows furrowed underneath his mask. “You’re still infected by Heart Splitter?” 

Ladybug suddenly became hyper-aware of the rain trickling down her neck. Her make-up must have washed off; this _was_ her second outing in such miserable weather, after all. “It’s nothing to worry about, Chat.” She told him. He swiped his thumb across the side of her neck to tug her collar down slightly, causing her to shiver involuntarily. "You're making it sound much worse than it is- _infected_ \- that's such a horrible word choice."

Chat made a displeased noise at the back of his throat. “This isn’t nothing.” He insisted. “They’ve gotten higher since last time.” 

Becoming self-conscious, Ladybug forcefully pulled away from her partner. “If it’s worrying you that much, you’ll be pleased to know I was planning on going to see Master Fu anyway. You can continue patrol alone and I’ll go see him now, if you want.” 

Chat frowned and removed his baton from the holster on his back. “You’d leave a poor stray out in the rain, by himself?” He whined. “So cold-hearted. I’m coming with you.” 

“Chat-” Ladybug pleaded. 

“Paris can survive unwatched for a night.” He stated quite bluntly, clearly not willing to argue. His eyes were soft and kind. “We should get going. We don’t want to arrive too late.” 

Ladybug sighed. “I suppose. It would be unfair to deprive The Guardian of his beauty sleep." Still, she frowned, somewhat uncomfortable with Chat Noir's intense concern- it couldn't be that bad, _right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaah thank you for your messages, kudos, and hits. I'll reply to the comments in the morning. Although I know I won't finish this story in July, I do truly believe I will finish it before the end of August at least. The chapters are coming surprisingly easy, and it's just a matter of sitting down and finding time to write - I don't think I've ever had a story flow this well! Here's hoping it sticks. 
> 
> I hope you're enjoying it so far, and as always, please comment to let me know what you think! Thank you so much!! 
> 
> ~Red x

**Author's Note:**

> Almost two weeks in, and I stumble through the door with tired eyes and iced coffee. 
> 
> I'm really late to the party, but I wanted to pull something together for Ladynoir July '19. It probably won't be finished by the end of the month, but I'll try my hardest. Let me know if you have any feedback, constructive criticism, or just general comments! I want to try and capture the softness of their relationship, specifically their partnership and how much they rely on one another, but also how it's amplified on Chat's end because of his feelings for Ladybug, and also Ladybug's inner struggle of "if not for Adrien, Chat." I hope that comes across well! Thanks!
> 
> P.S: I started writing a hanahaki AU for Ladybug last year, but didn't have the time or energy to keep up with it, and I wasn't happy with it overall. Now, I have more free time, and I'm determined to get this out into the world. I'm aiming for around 50K~60K words, but who knows. 
> 
> ~Red x


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